Afterwards
by storytellergirl
Summary: The past can never be forgotten. Sins can never be forgiven. Old habits can never die. It was said that the cure would solve everything. They were wrong.
1. Forgive Thyself

**Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.**

**Chapter 1:**

**Forgive Thyself**

_I did what I had to do…there was no other way. She would have killed us all._

Logan sighed wearily as he sat up in bed, planting his feet on the ground. There would be no sleep tonight. Not for him.

**Kill me**

She had asked him to. Begged him. Pleaded. She had known what was inside of her. Known she couldn't stop it. Known she couldn't control it. She had known death was the only answer. Accepted it.

But Logan could not. He could still smell the sexual tension radiating off her body. Feel her nails digging into his skin. See the unmasked want in her eyes. Hear her breath in his ears.

No, Logan would never accept her death. He couldn't.

_There had to have been another way._

Groaning, Logan stood up and walked over to his bedroom door. He eased it open and slid out into the hallway. Not even a floorboard creaked as he made his way over to the grand staircase. Logan descended the stairs and made his way in the direction of the kitchen. He pushed open the kitchen door and switched on the light as the door swung shut behind him. The only other sound besides his breathing was the hum of the refridgerator.

Logan pulled open the fridge and made a face at what he found inside. It looked as thought no one had done any shopping recently. Logan wasn't altogether surprised. The last few days had been hectic. Alcatraz Island, Jean's burial, a going away party for Hank…there just hadn't been any time for a trip to the grocery store.

Reaching inside to grab a cold can of soda, Logan made a mental note to himself to remind Ororo they needed groceries. A soft rustling sound soon alerted Logan that he was no longer alone.

"Can't sleep?" he asked upon turning around to find Ororo taking a seat at the counter.

The dark skinned woman yawned. "Some of the younger ones are still having nightmares. It takes a while to calm each of them down."

"How many tonight?"

"Three. Artie, Leech, and Melody."

Logan nodded at the mention of each name. He handed his soda to Ororo and re-opened the fridge to pull another one out for himself. He pulled out the chair opposite of Ororo and sat down. "How much longer do you think the nightmares will last?"

"It's hard to say. Everyone here has a troubled past. Since the death of Professor Xavier old demons have begun to resurface in the minds of the children. It could be a passing phase and go away in a couple of weeks…or it could become routine." Ororo shrugged helplessly as she opened her soda. "What are you doing up so early in the morning? I can't imagine you comforting students in need."

"I still see her. Every time I close my eyes I can see her…hear her…feel her."

"There was nothing you could do to change things, Logan. There was nothing any of us could do. Jean knew as well as we did that she was a danger to herself and everyone around her. No one could stop her—not even herself. You had no choice, Logan. Stop beating yourself up over it. What is done is gone," said Ororo softly, reaching a hand out to grasp Logan's.

"But there _had _to have been another way. We could have cure her with that damn cure!" snapped Logan pulling his hand away. "She didn't have to die!"

Ororo lapsed into silence, going over Logan's words in her mind. There was a truth behind them that she couldn't bear. The cure. Jean could have been cured. Had the psychic know that? Had Jean known death wasn't her only option? Or had she decided against the cure, not wanting to face the ramifications of the time spent as her alter ego, Phoenix? Killing the man you loved and the man who had helped raise you into adulthood were two things Ororo couldn't imagine forgiving oneself for.

When Ororo spoke her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't think Jean would have let us cure her."

Logan gritted his teeth and stood up, gripping his can of soda in his hands.

Ororo watched as he turned to leave the kitchen. "You have to more on, Logan. Forgive yourself and let of the past."

Logan froze, his back stiffening at her words. "Never." Then he was gone, the door swinging shut in his wake.

The gruff mutant made his way back into the foyer and down the hallway to the back door. He pulled it open and stepped outside, reveling in the cool breeze. He shut the door behind him and took a seat on the front steps.

**Please…kill me.**

There had to have been another way. He shouldn't have listened to her. He shouldn't have fought to save her. He shouldn't have given up so easily.

_I've lost her twice now. I let her go twice._

Logan opened his soda, not noticing as it fizzed out and over his fingers.

The most important person in his life was now gone. He had let her slip through his fingers forever. Logan could never follow her now. She would never be his. How could he have let her down like that? How could he have let her die?

_**Forgive yourself and let go of the past.**_

Was Ororo right? Should he move on? Bur for what reason? What more did Logan have to live for now? Jean was gone.

The sound of a window creaking open made Logan glance upwards. All he could see was the roof of the back porch, but he knew exactly which window had opened.

Rogue.

He had promised that he would take care of her no matter what. It didn't seem as though he had made good on that promise. She was an adult now. Eighteen. Cured of her powers forever. And yet, Logan had a feeling that she needed him now more than ever. She need him to be the adult now.

_She's turning out to be too much like me. Independent. _

Logan hadn't blamed her for wanting to get the cure. He would have done it too once upon a time. Xavier could call it a gift until he was blue in the face, but Logan knew Rogue had never been convinced.

Incapable of human touch. Untouchable. All gone with one shot.

Now Rogue was human. Normal. Different. It was the start of a whole new set of problems. Rogue was now the only non-mutant in the mansion and Logan knew she was growing restless doing nothing. She was itching to go out on her own and travel. See the world. Logan knew that whatever she did now would lead her down a difficult path…just as he had once had.

_**What is done is done.**_

It was time to let go of the past and concentrate on the future.

"This place is startin' to turn my brain to mush," grumbled Logan to himself. But deep down he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.

Taking a deep breath Logan gazed out at the night sky. A few stars dotted the blackness, shining softly. The leaves on a nearby treed stirred with the wind. He could sense that it was time to let Jean go.

_She was never mine in the first place._

It was with that thought that Logan got back onto his feet and turned to re-enter the mansion. It was time he finally forgave himself and moved on. Others needed him more than a memory did.


	2. The Other Woman

**Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.**

**Chapter 2:**

**The Other Woman**

Kitty let out a small yawn as she made her way downstairs. It was fairly early for a Saturday morning, so most of the mansion was still abed. That suited Kitty just fine since all she really wanted was to relax with a cup of coffee before the breakfast rush started up. As the brunette neared the kitchen her nose picked up the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee. Smiling, Kitty pushed open the kitchen door only to find Rogue pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"I smelled coffee," murmured Kitty softly when Rogue turned to glance her way. The southerner nodded and motioned for Kitty to pour herself a coup. Rogue took her own cup in her hands and over to the counter. Kitty took a small breath as she found herself a cup and poured some coffee. She and Rogue hadn't really spoken since the Alcatraz Island incident. Kitty had a feeling that the southern belle knew about ice skating on the fountain with Bobby.

Rogue was still seated at the counter, absently stirring her own cup of coffee. She seemed slightly tense, which gave Kitty a tiny boost of confidence. If Rogue was as uncomfortable as Kitty was then there was hope the two teens could work things out.

With that in mind Kitty placed her own cup across from Rogue and pulled out a chair. Rogue glanced up briefly before letting her gaze drop back down at her coffee. Hesitantly Kitty spoke first. "You're up pretty early," she commented.

"Ah couldn't sleep," replied Rogue simply.

"Oh." The room became silent again with only the faint sound of the ticking clock. "You've been pretty quiet the last few days. Is something wrong?"

Rogue shrugged. "Ah've just got a lot ohn mah mind."

Kitty chewed on her lip nervously. Rogue still refused to meet her eyes. Finally, after several minutes of silent debate, Kitty asked, "Are you and Bobby okay?"

The southerner's grip around her cup visibly tightened and her eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of hurt and anger. Rogue's mind turned over various responses, but none seemed right. She didn't know what to say, and even if she did she didn't feel comfortable telling Kitty. But Kitty was a part of Rogue and Bobby now whether the brunette knew it or not.

"Ah don't know," said Rogue quietly.

"I'm sorry." Kitty's simple words sounded apologetic and genuine at the same time. She had never meant to complicate things between Rogue and Bobby, and she had never meant to hope that maybe there was a chance Bobby would one day choose her.

Rogue barely nodded at Kitty's words. She wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault; that things with Bobby had been slowly falling apart for a while now; but the words wouldn't leave her mouth. Saying it would make it all too real and Rogue desperately wanted to hold onto the fantasy a little while longer.

Bobby was a wonderful guy. He was caring, sweet, dedicated, and serious—everything a girl could ever want in a guy. And it was those same qualities that had scared Rogue. She wasn't used to the amount of attention and love that Bobby had continuously showered on her the past two years. Before the cure Rogue had been untouchable. She had been afraid that by getting too close to Bobby she would hurt him and then lose him forever.

But her powers had never seemed to faze him. He had gone above and beyond the call of a boyfriend to make things work between them, and all Rogue had done was grow frustrated with the lack of a simple kiss that wouldn't kill Bobby. She had pushed him away, and had given him every right to consider what things could be like with someone else. Someone like Kitty.

"Rogue?"

The southerner looked up from her cup of coffee at the sound of Kitty's voice. She must have drifted off in her thoughts.

"Rogue?" repeated Kitty with some concern in her voice.

"Ah don't want ta talk 'bout it," murmured Rogue.

Kitty shook her head. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

_Yes it is_. The same thought echoed through both their minds as the kitchen fell silent once more.

Rogue's gaze dropped back to the cup of coffee in her hands. She could touch now, but that didn't make things any easier. Everything was just as complicated as it had been with her powers.

_So much for life bein' simple. Ah should never have let mah walls down, then Ah wouldn't have this problem with Bobby._

Kitty glanced down at her own cup of coffee as well. It was probably cold by now, but she didn't care. She had never really been good friends with Rogue. The southerner had kept close to Bobby and John the last two years. Only when Kitty started training alongside Piotr, Bobby, and Rogue in the Danger Room did Kitty and Rogue begin to interact more. Kitty had always been good friends with Piotr—best friends. They got along well, almost like brother and sister. He had been one of the few people in the mansion that she could trust.

Bobby had always been friendly and easy to get along with too. He was likeable, and it hadn't been hard for Kitty to develop a crush on him. He had given her a shoulder to cry on, had convinced her not to leave the mansion and give the X-Men a try. Then he had taken her ice skating on the pond. Kitty found his dedication endearing and romantic. And there had been sparks on the ice. Ones that both knew couldn't happen…but it didn't change the fact that they were there.

Glancing back at Rogue Kitty tried to read the girl, but found she couldn't. Rogue had always been hard to read. She could be just as quiet and shy as Kitty, but that had been because of her powers. Nevertheless Kitty couldn't help but compare herself to the southern teen.

Kitty had a family to go home too, one that cared for her. Rogue hadn't spoken to her family in two years. Kitty was a plain-Jane and a science geek. Rogue had a southern charm that guys found attractive. Kitty was known for always following the rules. Rogue had a small penchant for trouble when Logan was around. Kitty had considered her powers a gift. Rogue had called hers a curse.

The one thing they had in common however was Bobby. They both deeply cared for him, and that was what tied them together.

_He'll never leave her. Why would he? She's perfect. She's beautiful, sweet, she has an accent…I can't compete with Rogue….I shouldn't. She's his girlfriend. Bobby isn't going to throw two years away just for me._

Kitty glanced up at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Rogue was standing up. Kitty watched as Rogue brought her cup over to the sink, dumping its contents down the drain. Rogue tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear before rinsing the cup with water. Kitty studied the white streaks, remembering how Rogue had come to have them. It was a well known story at the mansion, one that gave the southern girl a star like status. She had almost died because of her powers, and the only reason Rogue had lived was because Logan had risked his own life to save her.

_I guess that's why she hated her powers. I couldn't imagine having what she had had. Being able to kill or weaken someone with a single touch? It couldn't have been easy. _

Rogue continued to rinse her cup, her eyes watching the water on her skin. It had been so long since she had felt safe without her gloves. She almost missed them. Behind her she could feel Kitty watching her.

_Why couldn't Ah have been more like her? She never thought she was cursed. Maybe that's what Bobby sees in her. She accepts herself for who she is—she isn't ashamed of her powers. But Ah was. Ah couldn't handle the responsibility mah powers gave meh. Ah wasn't strong enough._

"Are you happier now?" Kitty's question startled Rogue.

Turning off the water Rogue grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands. Then she turned to look at Kitty. Green eyes met brown ones.

_Am Ah happier now?_

"Are you?" countered Rogue. She had heard that Kitty had been homesick and unsure if life at the mansion was what she really wanted.

Both girls became quiet once more.

_No._

_Yes._

_Yes._

_No._

Rogue let out a small breath as she turned towards the kitchen door. All this thinking was giving her a headache. Just as she was about to push the door open, Rogue said, "Ah got the cure for meh. It's what Ah wanted."

"I never said otherwise."

"Your eyes did." With that Rogue left the kitchen, leaving Kitty alone with a cold cup of coffee.

"Even without the cure, you won," whispered Kitty, her eyes filling with tears.

_Bobby will never be mine._


	3. Homecoming

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Chapter 3: Homecoming**

"And this is my room. So…what do you think?" Warren looked over at his father anxiously, wondering what the older man thought.

Ororo gave Warren an encouraging smile as Mr. Worthington studied the bedroom. They had been showing him around the mansion, giving him an idea of the type of atmosphere Warren would be living in. Because it was a Saturday the mansion was a bit livelier than usual.

"It's nice," said Mr. Worthington after a minute. "You have a very fine school, Ms. Munroe."

"Thank-you, Mr. Worthington," replied Ororo with a nod of her head. "I hope it will meet every standard you have for your son."

"Oh, I have no doubt that it will. I've liked everything that I have seen today." Mr. Worthington glanced towards the open doorway just as Logan passed by muttering under his breath. "Well…almost everything."

Ororo smiled in amusement. "Don't worry. Logan isn't as gruff as he looks. There really is a loving person inside that rough exterior."

A loud guffaw from the hallway made Ororo cough. "Well, he does take some getting used to."

"So I've gathered. And he is really a teacher here?"

"He helps train the students in the Danger Room. He's actually quite good at that if you don't mind his…brusque mannerisms."

"I think I can imagine. Are you and Mr...Mr. Logan the only two teachers here?"

"Actually, we have a friend coming in from Europe to help out. A Kurt Wagner of Germany. He should be arriving some time today, I believe."

Mr. Worthington nodded as his eyes scanned the room once more. It was small and bare, but he knew his son would eventually deck it out to suit his tastes. The older man grimaced as he realized he really didn't know what his son's tastes were. Over the years their relationship had been rocky at best. The only time they had ever talked was during dinner…and even then the conversations had been about Worthington Industries and its future. Not once had Warren Worthington the II ever inquired as to his own heir's life, interests, or thoughts.

_Adults and strangers is what we are. How Katherine would chide me for what I have done to our family._ Mr. Worthington's thought was a dry one as he thought of his beloved wife who had departed this life only five years before.

"Hey, wait up!" The voice of a young boy made Mr. Worthington turn his head to glance into the hallway. His face softened as he caught sight of the boy known as Leech running by after another boy his age.

Ororo sighed and quickly stepped into the hallway. "Leech, Artie, you know the rules about running inside the mansion. It isn't safe. What if you were to knock someone else down? They could be seriously injured."

The boys in question stopped their running as Ororo's words caught their ears. Exchanging bashful looks they heeded her hand motion to join her in Warren's room. Ororo gave Mr. Worthington an apologetic look as she placed gentle hands on the shoulders of Artie, a boy with dark curly hair, and Leech, a pale youth with bright eyes.

"I must say," murmured Ororo with a smile, "that I will be most grateful when help does arrive. My hands seem to be full chasing after certain students who can't seem to find their way outdoors to run across the grounds."

Artie made a face but didn't say a word. As a mute he could only converse with hand movements and facial expressions. Leech glanced over at his friend and spoke up instead. "It's too cold to play outside," he stated on behalf of himself and Artie. Since Leech had arrived at the mansion he and Artie had become inseparable despite Leech's gift.

"He has a point," agreed Mr. Worthington with a soft chuckle. "The weather has gotten quite cool lately. Winter isn't far away."

Ororo gave a small laugh in agreement. "I believe you are right, Mr. Worthington. If you don't mind these fine boys and I will excuse ourselves and leave you and Warren alone."

Mr. Worthington inclined his head respectively and watched as the dark skinned woman led Artie and Leech out of the bedroom. He glanced back at his son who with an awkward smile. "She's a fine teacher, son. You'll be in good hands here."

Warren nodded in agreement, unsure of what to say. He had always found his father to be an intimidating man to speak with. For most of his life they had shared conflicting views on life, but Warren had never before found the nerve to speak out against his father or the wishes of him. And yet, here he was now finally stepping out onto his own. Warren was on a new path, one that would hopefully lead him to himself so that he could become the man he knew he had been born to be.

"Do you need anything here?" questioned Mr. Worthington after a moment of silence.

"Huh?" Warren blinked in surprise. "Oh, no…I don't think so. I…I think I have everything already."

"Oh."

The two men lapsed into silence, neither sure what to say next. They knew a conversation between father and son should take place, but how to go about it was another question. They had never tried to act as equals. It had always been father to son, never man to man. This new development in their relationship was one that would need to be worked upon in the future.

Both of them glanced at the doorway as a soft footstep disturbed their thoughts. An Asian girl gave them an apologetic smile before speaking. "Sorry, I thought Storm was still in here."

"She left with Artie and Leech," answered Warren quickly, clearing his throat before he spoke.

"Right…do you know where they went?"

Warren shook his head with some embarrassment. He had no idea where Ororo would take the younger boys. He wasn't sure where anyone would go at this point. Life at the mansion was still very new to him.

"Oh. Well, thanks anyway." The girl turned to leave when Mr. Worthington spoke up. He had been studying the teen girl closely; sure that he knew her face from somewhere.

"Excuse me, miss," he started, gaining her attention. "But you remind me of someone…I can't quite place who…would you mind telling me your name."

The smile on the girl's face was small and sad. When she spoke her voice was so soft that both Warren and his father had to strain their ears to hear her. "Lee…Jubilation Lee. My father was a respected surgeon in Beverly Hills. Dr. Lee…he came to work in one of the hospitals in California. He brought my mother to the United States from China."

Mr. Worthington closed his eyes as he began to envision the face of the girl's parents. He had met a Dr. Lee and his wife once. He and Katherine had been in California looking for a surgeon of Dr. Lee's caliber; they had been hoping that the widely held Chinese doctor would be the one to remove the wings from Warren's back. The Worthington's had only met with the Lee's once—they had been murdered the next night by two hit men sent by an angry surgeon who felt Dr. Lee had been taking his best clients away from him.

"I…I'm sorry," murmured Mr. Worthington after a moment, his eyes opening once more. "I didn't mean to bring up such painful memories. I…I remember the news of your parents' deaths all to well—I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Jubilation Lee, but you can call me Jubilee. Everyone else does," replied the girl with another small smile, this one friendlier than before. She was used to being reminded of her lack of parents or any family in general. She was one of the few real orphans at the mansion. "Did you know my parents?"

"My wife and I met them once…the night before they…well, they struck me as wonderful people. I couldn't have met a better man that night."

Jubilee's smile broadened. "Thank-you." Her gaze drifted away from the two men in the doorway as another girl walked by. "Siryn, wait up." Jubilee turned back to Warren and Mr. Worthington. "It was nice meeting you, sir."

"The same goes for me." Mr. Worthington watched Jubilee disappear from the doorway behind a girl with red hair. It was ironic to find the daughter of the very man who had been meant to help get rid of Warren's wings in the same mansion as Warren now. It seemed mutants were more common than the public had been led to believe.

"You're going to do fine here," stated Mr. Worthington with another glance at Warren. The younger Worthington had been silent, only watching the interaction between the older man and Jubilee. "I think you will make friends to last a lifetime…you belong here, and not because you're a mutant, but because you're a good person at heart. I think becoming an X-Man is the perfect fit for you son. I'm proud of you."

"Really?" A small smile worked its way onto Warren's face, brightening his mood.

Mr. Worthington nodded with a smile of his own. "Really. Come on, why don't you walk your old man to the door? I need to get back to the city and begin the paperwork to close the labs on Alcatraz Island."

Warren grinned and turned to follow his father out of the bedroom. They walked down the hallway to the grand staircase and headed downstairs, being careful not to knock over some of the younger children running up the stairs as fast as they could.

"What have I told you children about running?" Ororo's voice floated up from the first floor. She shook her head as the doorbell rang, and giving Mr. Worthington and Warren a smile, she headed towards the front door. From another hallway Logan emerged with a small girl wrapped around his leg.

"'Ro, I got a pest problem," growled the gruff man trying to shake the girl off his leg.

"Melody, you have to take your medicine, so let go of Mr. Logan and find Kitty. I promise it won't hurt." Ororo didn't even glance at Logan or the girl as she spoke, her attention turning to the ringers of the bell as she pulled the front door open.

"Kurt! Oh, it's so good to see you!" Ororo moved forward to hug the man in the doorway as Warren, Mr. Worthington, and Logan approached the front door. Mr. Worthington did a double take at the blue skinned demon looking mutant wrapping his arms around Ororo, a bright smile showing off his pointy teeth.

"Great," muttered Logan, "you can have the pipsqueak on my leg, Nightcreeper."

The blue mutant replied, "It is Nightcrawler. But Kurt will do just as well."

"Whatever, take the kid."

Ororo gave Logan a warning glance before speaking to Kurt. "I'm so glad you've returned. We've missed you around here."

"And I have missed you." The tone of Kurt's voice was warm as he entered the foyer. Mr. Worthington couldn't help but stare as he finally noticed the tail attached to the mutant's behind. It was then that the group noticed that Kurt wasn't alone.

A man with white hair and brown eyes, who looked to be around Warren's own age stepped inside the foyer as well with a woman right behind him. The woman had the same brown eyes as the man but auburn hair. She looked to be the same age as him as well.

"You've brought guests," stated Ororo with some surprise.

Kurt grinned. "Yes…yes I did. May I present to you Pietro and Wanda Maximoff—twins and mutants. They have come to join our ranks."

Ororo's smiled widened as she focused all her attention to the newly arrived pair. "Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Mutants."

"Welcome home," added Kurt with a wink at the twins. Wanda and Pietro exchanged impish looks.

"Yes," said Wanda after a moment. "I think so."

Pietro grinned. "Yeah, this just might be home."

Glancing around the group, Mr. Worthington nodded in approval and placed a hand on Warren's shoulder before speaking to everyone in general. "You couldn't have chosen a better place."


	4. Checkmate

**Disclaimer: Characters and such do not belong to me. **

**Checkmate**

"_We are the future, Charles, not them."_

The words echoed in his mind, embedding them selves into his brain. Erik rubbed his forehead wearily as though trying to rub the words out of his head. They haunted him now, repeating themselves over and over again like a broken record.

"_We are the cure!"_

He could still see the crowd standing before him, cheering him on. He could still feel the support of his trusted members coming from behind him, lifting him up.

And he could still see the haunted look in Mystique's eyes as he told her she was no longer one of them.

Humans. Everything had started because of them…and now everything would end with them. The humans had won the war.

"No." His fist slammed down on top of the park table with such a force that the chess pieces toppled over. He spoke quietly, but with a fierce determination natural to his hardened soul. Erik wasn't going down that easily. He wasn't ready to consider his cause lost just yet.

"We _are_ the cure," he murmured, his words so soft even he could not hear them. Erik allowed his eyes to travel down to his clenched fist atop the table. Slowly his fingers straightened out, steadying themselves in the air. His dark eyes flickered over to a single pawn still standing upright, inches away from his fingertips. His eyebrows furrowed with a look of deep concentration as he willed himself to move the metal chess piece.

Seconds passed. A dog barked in the distance, and a child cried out in delight, but the former Master of Magnetism heard none of it. His sole attention was directed on the silver pawn before him; watching and waiting.

Then ever so slowly the pawn wiggled a quarter of an inch forward. Erik closed his eyes as relief washed over him. The strain in trying to move the pawn even that much was a terrible toll on his physical being. He would be weakened for the next week, unable to do anything more than sit and wait for a lowly human to sit before him and try their hand at his area of expertise: chess.

Leaning back in his chair Erik eyed the chess pieces atop the table critically. It was like seeing his army on the battlefield, full and complete, but once the game started the pieces would vanish one by one, just as his army had on Alcatraz Island. Gone in the blink of an eye, all made human or killed by a fellow mutant. The older man gritted his teeth at that last thought. The X-Men had ruined everything by coming to the aid of the humans. The source of the cure would have been dead by now if it hadn't been for the X-Men. As far as Erik was concerned the X-Men were no better than the humans. And while they had won the last battle they would not win the ultimate war—the X-Men would get their dues in just time. Eventually their luck would run out.

A small smile worked its way up onto his face, his blue eyes moving to gaze up at the San Francisco sky. It was only a matter of time before he worked up enough strength to use his powers like he had before the cure, so far he was the only one who knew of the cure's inability to cure mutants…but the truth would come out. It always did in cases like this, and when it did the world would come to fear mutants once more. Nothing, not even a pathetic attempt to rid one of the X-gene could stop mutants from being who they truly were. Mutants _were _the next link in the evolutionary chain. Mutants would one day become the dominant species like the humans feared—there was no stopping it now. It was an indisputable fact. Humans were a dying species.

Erik's daydream faded away as a human presence was made known to him. His eyes cleared of their fantasies and turned to glance at the once empty seat across from him. In it now sat a woman that could be considered beautiful by human standards. She sat straight in the seat, making her appear taller than most women were. Raven black hair hung to her chin, enhancing the tinge of pink in her otherwise pale cheeks. Her brown eyes gazed at Erik with a depth he had seen in only one other in his lifetime.

"My dear, even as a human you cannot hide who you truly are," murmured Erik softly, clasping his hands together and placing them in his lap. "I must wonder what it is that has brought you so far from home, to a state you swore to never step foot in again?"

The woman smirked, speaking with an almost musical lilt in her voice. "You, of course. I came seeking you."

"And for what reason have you come seeking me, Mystique? You and I are nothing but mere humans now—what is it you are looking for? Revenge?"

"Hope." Mystique leaned forward, placing her elbows atop the table to allow herself closer access to the man in front of her. "Human we may be, but not by choice. I know you, Erik. I know you better than Charles Xavier himself ever could. You will not give up the fight so easily, how can you when all you have worked for and warned our people against has come true? The humans will never accept us for what we were born to be—there is only one way left to us now—we _must_ make mutants see that the cure is wrong, that it is only a concoction of the humans attempting to change us to their own acceptable standards."

"And how would you propose I do that, my dear? Who will listen to us now? The X-Men have done what they have always preached—they have achieved peace with the humans. Even now one of their own is working in the United Nations on behalf of the United States—how does that help our cause against the human race? The Brotherhood has been dispersed, our members spread thin and left to their own devices. I fear our time has run out."

Mystique frowned, lines creasing her forehead as her eyes seemed to search Erik's in search of something more behind his words. "How can you give up so easily? What about everything we have worked towards, Erik? The last few years have been spent plotting and carrying out our plans to better the lives of mutants. I have followed your every word, Erik. Everything I have done has been for you—even after you left me on that truck I continued to help you. I bought you time by sending those god-damn federal agents to the camp instead of Alcatraz Island like you were planning—I knew you'd leave that multiplier behind as a decoy—that's how you work, Erik. You're always one step ahead of the humans. You always have been. How can you just end things now, you have the advantage! You're human—but it isn't because you chose the cure like the humans have been saying everyone do—it was forced upon you, me, and hundreds of others who had no wish to become human again! That is more than enough of a reason to continue fighting, Erik! You are a god—_our _god; a god for mutants. Without you the humans will win and we will ultimately die out. Is that what you want?"

A twinkle glimmered in Erik's eyes as he gazed back at Mystique. Her words were spoken with passion like he had never heard before. Inside he could feel a stir at his heart. This was the spirit he had always sought for his brothers; this was the spirit he looked for in every mutant.

"Where do you stand, Mystique? Where will you draw your line in the sand?"

"I will follow you to hell and back, Erik. You know that," hissed Mystique in a low voice, her eyes darkening at the question.

Erik nodded slowly, his face unchanging. "Then let it be known that the Brotherhood of Mutants is not dead. _Hope_ is not dead."

Realization dawned on Mystique's face, forcing her to sit back in her seat. Erik had a plan, just as he always did. This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.


	5. Liquid Ashes

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, none of this belongs to me. Go figure, right?

**--**

**A/N – **yes, I'm aware it's been forever and a day since I've written anything for this story, and no I'm not abandoning it. School simply takes more time than I would like.

**--**

**Liquid Ashes**

Pyro flicked open the top of his ever faithful Zippo lighter with his thumb before snapping it back down with his other hand. The day had been progressing slowly; though the teen had a feeling it had everything to do with the fact that he was locked in a bedroom with no windows. In his eyes it was more than just cruel and unusual punishment, but he wasn't about to argue for his release. The sandy haired teen was lucky he hadn't been turned over to the police after Alcatraz Island, or left to a certain death many of his comrades had faced. It was hardly much of a consolation prize, but thoughts of other possibilities kept him from moping too much on his current predicament.

While it was fairly easy to forget the what ifs of his situation, there was one thing Pyro could not forget: how Bobby Drake, one time best friend and roommate had beat the shit out of him no questions asked on Alcatraz Island. It was humiliating to say the least. Pyro had been the one to leave the kiddy group behind for something better; for something a little bit stronger. He hadn't stuck around buying into the sob story that was the X-Men – he had gone out and seized his destiny like there was no tomorrow, and where had it led him? Right back to where he had started. Stuck.

St. John Allerdyce was not one to like being in the same place for long. He had done that once upon a time until his parents had abandoned him for being some sort of manic child beyond their control. Even without his powers Pyro figured it would have led to the same broken family he now had. His father was god knows where writing up a storm while his mother was probably off enjoying the latest tidbits to be gathered as a journalist. Both his parents had been more solitary creatures than was possibly healthy for people with children, but it had all worked out in the end. His parents had divorced and dropped him off at the nearest orphanage once it was determined there was something wrong with him. Bouncing around from one home to another had never really set well with Pyro, but he had survived. So what if his parents hadn't wanted him? No one could have the picture perfect family that was Bobby Drake.

That was one of the things that had bothered Pyro about his friend. Bobby had everything. The perfect reputation; the perfect grades; the perfect manners; the perfect family; the perfect girl; the perfect future ahead of him. Bobby had the perfect life; and Pyro … well, he was lucky to still have his life at this point.

In his time away from the mansion Pyro had thought he might have finally one upped Bobby. Boy had he been wrong. Things had started well enough in their battle, something borne out of years of jealousy of the other teen, but somewhere along the line everything had gone oh so wrong. Where? How? Pyro was a Class 4 Mutant – he was supposed to have been stronger, better. But he wasn't. Bobby was high up there too – the guy had turned into a live Popsicle in an effort to bring Pyro down. And brought him down he did – Pyro still had a bruise on the spot in which Bobby had head butted him in his ice form. Ice. Damn that just sounded stupid. Fire was supposed to melt ice, but Pyro hadn't been able to melt Bobby – it had turned the other way around with Bobby extinguishing Pyro's flames and throwing him into Black Out City. Not quite the way to go for any teen looking for a little glory along with his civil rights.

Running a hand through his sandy blonde hair the teen looked up at the sound of footsteps heading his way. He grimaced as he realized who those footsteps belonged too. Rooming with a guy apparently didn't erase the little things like the sound of footsteps. Bobby had always walked as though he had nothing to hide – he had never slunk through the mansion like Pyro had done when he had been nothing more than a student here. Pressing his lips together in annoyance Pyro sat back in the chair and waited for Bobby to make his appearance. He didn't have long to wait for only a minute later the door to his room-slash-prison was being pushed open and there was Robert Louis Drake.

"Coming to gloat again, Drake?" snarled Pyro in greeting.

Bobby frowned. "You know that's not why I'm here, John. I've been telling you that for the last few days."

"Yeah, and I've been telling you that I want nothing to do with you. Get over yourself, Drake. I made a choice just like you did – this isn't my place anymore."

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"Screw you."

"John, I know you're really not a bad guy. Whatever it is that made you turn to Magneto – we can move past it. You can be a part of the –"

"A part of the X-Men? No thanks; I'd rather not join up with the geek squad if you don't mind. Leather isn't my thing, makes me itch."

Gritting his teeth Bobby shut the door behind him and pulled out another chair within the room to take his own seat. It was an odd feeling to be sitting across from the one person that had been his confidant for years, now estranged for an indefinite amount of time. No matter how old he got to be Bobby was fairly sure he would never know what it was that had driven John to join Magneto. To Bobby John would always been the laid back, rebellious teen he had always been – even the fact that he had helped in possible deaths of humans couldn't sway him away from the fact that he firmly believed there was still good in John somewhere. There just had to be. He couldn't be this complete heartless being that Logan wanted him to be just so he could kick John out to the streets, or worse, jail.

The last few days had been spent with Bobby pleading with Storm and Logan to keep John around in hopes that he could convince the other teen to change his views on humans and renounce the ways of Magneto. Thus far that was turning out to more than a small challenge. Bobby was beginning to think that his pleas had been in vain; that John would never be the old John that Bobby had been friends with. It was like a chapter in his life was closed off to him forever, and it wasn't a feeling that Bobby was willingly going to accept. He was failing in all other aspects of his life; one more failure would possibly break him altogether.

To the rest of the mansion Bobby seemed to have everything together. He was now an official member of the X-Men, he was graduating in May, had a loving girlfriend, a picture perfect background, and a future bright. Unfortunately that was all very far from the truth. With his new status in the X-Men came more responsibility, thrusting Bobby into an adult world he had hoped to stave off for another few years. He had no idea what he was going to do with his future – college possibly, but to what end? Things with Rogue were breaking apart by the seams and he was clueless as to how to fix that, and add in Kitty to the dilemma and one could see why Bobby was suffering from migraines of late. Then there was the matter of his family. They still weren't talking to him after the events of last year. They probably never would.

John was Bobby's last hope at redeeming himself on a personal level. If he could somehow salvage the friendship he had carried with Pyro and bring him back to his old self, then possibly everything else would fall into place. It just had to. Perhaps it was naïve of him to avoid fixing things firsthand rather than just letting things stew on their own. He knew that decision would haunt him forever, but for now Bobby was quite content to concentrate on the one thing that didn't have any immediate effects on his life. An old friend.

"Why'd you leave in the first place?" asked Bobby after a moment.

"Why not?"

"You never cared about humans in the past."

"I grew up being hated for what I was, Drake, but maybe that was because I didn't hide who I was from the world."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Pyro snorted. "You're the one that didn't come out to your folks until it was too late –"

"You sure as hell didn't make things any better showing off your temper. If it hadn't been for Rogue –"

"What? You think if I hadn't had a little fun your family would have cried a little and then moved on to planning your wedding to Rogue? Why spare them the truth, Drake? Why let you pretend you weren't a mutant just for them? Didn't you see the look in their eyes? You were a monster, just like I am. They weren't going to accept you – not you, not Wolverine, not Rogue. Not me. I'm surprised you didn't go off and get the cure for yourself too; you could have gone crawling back to your parents just like all those other weaklings did. I saved you the trouble of making a mistake, you should be thanking me."

Rolling his eyes Bobby replied, "Yeah, thanks for everything, John. You've been a real pal running off to the enemy and leaving your friends behind. That was a real blast."

"Same old Bobby can't let go of the fact that I did what you could only dream about."

"Putting in your lot with a fascist like Magneto? Oh yeah, totally jealous here."

"No dipshit, I mean taking fate into your own hands instead of having it planned out for you. There was no way in hell I was going to become another leather wearing, Boy Scout spouting X-Freak like you did – I went looking for something better."

"And did you find it?"

At this Pyro was silent, his eyes back on the Zippo in his hands. He hadn't even meant to say that – it sounded too much like something he had heard at the mansion during some class or another. He had never been a firm believer in fate before, and in truth, he still wasn't. Pyro dealt with reality, and reality was that he would never be accepted with humans. Oh, it possibly had something to do with his screwed up nature, a result of his screwed past, but Pyro was beyond analyzing himself. What purpose was it going to serve at this point in time? Nothing really. So what if he played with fire a little more obsessively than others? It was the one thing that made him, St. John Allerdyce, stand out above all others. Without his powers he was nobody; and it was the nobodies that had nothing to live for.

"What about you?" countered Pyro after another moment, his eyes going upwards to study the teen that had once been his friend. "You ever find what you were looking for?"

"I was never looking for anything, John."

"Sure you were – everyone's looking for something, Drake, even you."

"Oh really, and what was it I was looking for?"

The two returned to silence, each studying the other for a telltale sign as to what the other was thinking. Once upon a time it had been easy to read the other like a storybook, but now … now it seemed someone had learned to better hide the emotion in their eyes, and it wasn't Bobby.

"That happily ever after, Bobby. You've always wanted things to fall into place just right. How's that going for you? You moved up in the ranks, earned that dorky leather suit to call yourself an X-Man, that's got to be something, right? Then there's Rogue, she went off and got the cure just for you – can't go wrong there since you two had issues with the whole touching. There can't be anything wrong with all of that – a future all in one, the girl and the job. That's what life is all about, isn't it, Bobby? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Bobby couldn't speak for a moment. It was unsettling the way in which Pyro had been able to read him like nothing had ever happened, but then again, Bobby had never been good at hiding his feelings. It was the one flaw to the golden boy image he had worked up at the mansion. He heard the whispers of how he was more like Cyclops every day, something of which the teen tried to drown out. He wanted to believe that he wouldn't go wrong the way his one-time mentor and idol had done. That wasn't the end Bobby wanted for him. Of course, Cyclops had never been torn between girls and unsure of his future. Bobby had no idea what he wanted out of his life – a happily ever after, sure, but that didn't seem as close by as it had six months ago.

"I don't think anyone ever gets their happily ever after," said Bobby after a long moment.

"You sound like you don't believe anymore."

"I don't know what to believe. And you, you know what to believe these days? Your leader is missing, your cause is dead in the water, and you're stuck in a place you tried to run away from."

"My life sucks, I know it. At least I didn't keep to the good guy routine because it was expected of me." The blonde boy sighed as Bobby shot him a quizzical glance. There were times when he had to wonder who was the smarter of the two. "You're playing a role, Drake. You're going to stay on the same path for the rest of your life, never doing anything that'll take you somewhere else. You'll be the fearless leader, a role model to other students, the perfect boyfriend; the wholesome boy next door. You don't know how to shake things up, Bobby. You're afraid to put a toe out of line. You're always going to follow the rules, never going to throw it out the window. That's always been your problem. You're afraid to embrace change."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? Then how come you keep coming here day after day hoping to make me see the light like you're some kind of preacher?"

Exhaling slowly Bobby refused to answer as that would mean giving into Pyro's little ploy, whatever it might be. It was easy to hate the fire loving teen in front of him. They were direct opposites, one time friends made to be the perfect pair of arch enemies to ever grace the planet. Where Pyro was reckless Bobby was straight laced. He liked the rules because they made sense to him. He didn't always like being out of his zone when it came to something important like a battle. Teamwork appealed to Bobby because he was a people person, and frankly, it was pretty damn nice having someone to count on when the time called for it.

Pyro excelled at the whole loner deal. He had it down pat. He liked having freedom of restraints – rules had only ever held him down in a suffocating manner. Pyro was a free spirit, one that would likely never associate with one thing or cause or even person for long. He had been the rebel in school when Bobby had been the good boy – it was almost funny to reflect upon their haphazard relationship as it was mostly a compare and contrast situation. They had very little in common …

And yet it reminded him too much of another relationship in his life that seemed to be heading in the same direction, and it wasn't at all something that Bobby wanted to dwell on. So instead, he returned to the question he had first asked upon his arrival, the same question he had been asking Pyro since the other teen had been brought back to the mansion.

"Why'd you leave?"

His eyes shifting up to Bobby's again Pyro had to restrain himself from sighing. It was almost ridiculous that they were still coming back to the same question over and over again. He knew it had everything to do with moving on for Bobby, and yet Pyro wasn't sure he wanted Bobby to move on just yet. It was the one last power he had on the other teen, something he would likely never have again in a really long time. But at the same time Pyro wanted to move on. He didn't want to endure the same questions, the same conversation, and the same person day in and day out. He wanted Bobby Drake out of his life once and for all, and right this moment it wasn't hard to speak the truth.

"You."

"We were friends."

"You had everything I wanted. Everyone wanted to be like you, everyone wanted to be your friend. You had the family, the girl, the life I could have had if I hadn't been born a mutant."

"I'm a mut—"

"A mutant too? Didn't change the fact that you got everything you ever wanted. I was just the sideshow to your circus act, Bobby. That's all people will ever remember me as. I never had a steady girlfriend. I never had a family to love me. Trying hard only ever left me in the dust – your dust. You were always two times better than me, so I did what I knew you couldn't do. I left. I tried something new. I found myself."

Bobby looked up. "And what did you find?"

"That I will never be another Bobby Drake."


	6. Far Away

**Disclaimer: **Marvel made millions for a reason. I'm still hoping just to scrape by in college.

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**Far Away**

He had been standing at the airport for little more than an hour now. The flight he was waiting for had been delayed, inevitable given the weather on the other end. He supposed he was lucky it was still coming, something for which he was grateful. It wasn't every day he found something that made him get up early in the morning and over to one of the many New York City airports. Hell, it wasn't much that could get him to actually take the subway, but he had done it.

Piotr Rasputin wasn't sure what kind of guy he really was. He hoped he knew right from wrong. He knew where his loyalties lie. He knew heartache, heartbreak, and heart anything at this point. He knew art like the back of his hand. He knew he would be glad when the semester was over and he was able to graduate. He knew without a doubt that things would be different from now on; they had been since the death of the Professor.

But most of all, Piotr knew that family would always come first.

Both of them.

The X-Men were really a new family for him. Since coming to attend school at Xavier's Piotr had made close friends with his fellow students. Many of them were like siblings now, they shared a lot together. Meals, rooms, homework assignments, training hours – it was a never ending foray of the same things a family might do together … with the exception of using powers and learning how to fight with them.

But it was the other family that still tugged at his heart. His sister, his brother, his father, his mother – Piotr's past. It was a part of him he had never been able to forget no matter how hard he tried.

His brother had died when he was young, leaving him the man of the family. Their father had been sick and without work for so long that it had always been expected that Piotr would help Mikhail pay the bills and put food on the table. What no one had expected was the accident that claimed his brother's life. After that Piotr had to grow up.

It hadn't been easy, naturally, but Piotr had taken his brother's stead and done all that was expected of him. Work was easy for Piotr had always been exceptionally strong for his age – something he had always attributed to his height and the time spent working in the fields of his family farm.

He had gotten a brief education in his younger years. He hadn't learned English until he had come to the United States at the age of fifteen, but that seemed like so long ago now – three years, in fact.

It had been in his homeland of Russia that Piotr had discovered he was a mutant, and even then he had been careful to hide the truth from his mother. But afterwards, well, afterwards everything seemed to change. If he wasn't careful his body would become encased in steel without his meaning it to. People looked then. They looked and they stared, and before long word got back to his mother that Piotr wasn't quite right.

He had been forced to stay home from work after that. His boss had threatened to turn him into the police for the amount of threats he himself had been receiving on Piotr's behalf. It was for that Piotr had become ashamed of himself. He was unable to work and unable to support his mother and sister. At the time Illyana had been too young to understand what was going on. She had only been thrilled that Piotr was home to play with her, a result of her nature to always be cheerful. She had always been something of an angel to him, his precious snowflake in the hard times.

Then came the attack on their house. It had happened in the dead of night when they had least expected it. There had been shouting from outdoors followed by someone pounding on the front door. Piotr had answered and found the house crowded by a good number of people from his village – all brandishing burning torches and demanding that he leave.

They were blaming him for the odd disappearances in the area. People had gone into the woods and vanished without a trace. Even Piotr had grown scared, forbidding his sister from ever playing there again. At the time the disappearances had drifted from his mind if only because there hadn't been any more to speak of. Yet the village could not forget, and Piotr supposed they never would.

He was the logical explanation. A freak of nature that could turn into steel had to be the cause behind good people vanishing into thin air. They had called him a murderer, a vile vicious man that needed to be killed before he killed another. Behind Piotr he could hear his mother clutching his sister tight, murmuring to the younger blonde that all would be fine. That everything would be okay.

He had believed her as well.

Encasing his body in steel, Piotr had shut the door to block out the jeers of the crowd. The torches had then been tossed onto the roof of the house and smoke had begun to cloud his senses. Piotr turned to get his mother and sister, but they were nowhere to be found. It was as though they had vanished into thin air.

For time afterward Piotr had come to believe that the smoke had affected him more than he had originally thought. He convinced himself he had failed his mother and sister; that they had perished in the fire with all the other remains of his past.

He had been found by Professor Charles Xavier wandering a lone road in Russia two days later and brought to the United States. Now he was a citizen of the United States and a full-fledged member of the X-Men. He spoke English like a native, though some words would continue to elude him. He could play football, though he failed to see the excitement behind it. He drew pictures, many of which were scenes of his past, or portraits of his family. Piotr would be an artist, he knew that without a doubt. It was possible now, more so than a year ago when mutant unease had been at the forefront of everyone's minds.

And it was one year ago today that Piotr had learned his sister was still alive.

The Professor had called him into his study, a serious, yet welcome expression upon his face. Piotr had been afraid the Professor had discovered that it was Piotr that had drawn that picture of Rogue and Bobby kissing, the one with Bobby being shocked by Rogue's powers. But that hadn't been it.

The Professor explained that since the events of Piotr's arrival at the mansion he had been searching for an unexplained mutant presence that had been occurring in the same area Piotr had lived during the same time Piotr had been there. The Professor had said that he had simply assumed it had been Piotr that he had sensed with Cerebro, but after more studying he had decided it had never been Piotr in the first place.

The power Cerebro had sensed had been something odd – a sort of here and there presence, almost like that of the mutant Nightcrawler, the transporter. Piotr hadn't been sure what the point behind this explanation was, not until Professor brought up the disappearances. The source behind the power, the mutant he had been searching for those two years prior, had been able to open a window into time, vanishing into a sort of limbo, likely where the humans had vanished to never be heard of again.

Professor Xavier could now say that the powers belonged to a young girl living in an orphanage in Russia. She had blonde hair and bright blue eyes and would now be a mere thirteen or fourteen years old.

Piotr couldn't believe what he was being told. It sounded like his sister, but he was afraid to hope that it was. He had already convinced himself she was dead that he was scared to have all his hopes crushed again as they were the night of the fire.

A week later Piotr had taken a plane to Russia with then girlfriend Kitty and Professor Xavier. At the orphanage the blonde girl in question had come running at him, a delighted expression upon her face. It seemed Illyana had not forgotten him after all. For one week they were able to catch each other up on their adventures apart. Piotr learned that Illyana had no control over her powers, able to open her small window into limbo without trying hard. He also learned that she had lost their mother in one of the windows. She had cried about that for two days with him, but he told her that all that really mattered was that they were together again.

At the end of the week Piotr promised to do everything he could to get Illyana into the United States. Ties with Russia made that difficult, but with the help of the Professor Piotr began to the process of adoption, all of which would be completed the day he turned eighteen.

That day had come in the midst of the battle with Magneto and all that was happening with the cure. The loss of the Professor had put his petition on the backseat, but a few weeks ago Dr. McCoy had come around the mansion to help finish up the petition, and now here Piotr was awaiting the arrival of his now fifteen year old sister. By all matters of the law she was his ward, and Piotr was glad. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe and sound within his reach. He wouldn't let her out of his sight, and with the help of those at the mansion, Piotr hoped Illyana would learn how to use her powers and control them for the better.

A loudspeaker broke his concentration. Piotr's eyes lifted to the screen above him, eyes focusing in on the fact that the flight he had been waiting for was just arrived.

It was the moment of truth.

For the next fifteen agonizing minutes Piotr shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes scanning the crowd of people coming from the direction of the gates. He would have been awaiting his sister at her gate if the law had allowed him to, but the threat of terrorism kept Piotr and all others waiting for loved ones a good distance away.

She saw him before he saw her. The sound of her voice calling his name jerked Piotr's attention. A smile broke his face as he made his way through the crowd, easily moving people by his tall size. For once he was grateful for his appearance.

They gripped one another in a fierce hug, Piotr for the sake of never wanting to let her go again, and Illyana for the sake of never being alone again. They were finally a family again, and that was all that mattered.

Looking up with eyes shining bright with tears, Illyana said, in her broken English that she had been studying at the orphanage, "Now we not so far away."

"No," agreed Piotr as he hugged his sister once more. "Now we aren't so far away."

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**A/N – **I rather like this chapter, it's rather touching.


	7. Reflection

**Disclaimer** – Property of Marvel.

**Reflection**

His eyes studied the mansion as the taxi made its way down the long driveway. It had been a long time since he had been here. Years, actually. Eight, to be exact.

When he had left he had claimed he would never be back. But here he was, returning. He had contemplated the many reasons why, but the long and short of it was guilt. He had left out of anger, and had stayed away because of his pride. He should have come back when he had heard the news, but he had ultimately chickened out. Maybe it had been denial. After all, death wasn't something one expected to hear about so suddenly – especially when there wasn't even a body for two out of three victims.

Or perhaps that was why he had stayed away. One death was bad, but three… he couldn't imagine how the mansion had held up in the wake of so much tragedy. He couldn't even fathom how they were doing now.

He had heard rumors, certainly. Ororo was in charge now, a change from the days when everyone had expected Scott to take over. There was new staff, and an ad seeking more. Some would say that was why he was back, but even he didn't know if he was ready to take up the reigns of teaching. He was only twenty-nine, after all. He still remembered his days as a student here… to teach would be, well, it wasn't something he had really considered.

So why was he back? In the long run there was no easy answer to that question. He had stayed away as long as possible – probably longer than he should have, and somewhere inside him, a voice kept telling him it was time to go home.

Home.

The mansion _was_ home. It had always been home, even after growing up elsewhere until his teens – until his powers had emerged and labeled him an outcast of society. But he hadn't been bothered by it. Coming here had given him a family again; a chance to belong to a team. He had liked hat. Lived for it, actually.

And then he had left. A fight with another had left a sour taste in his mouth, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself admit he was wrong and ask for forgiveness. He had packed his bags instead, intending to try and make his way in the world elsewhere. He had gone to college, gotten a degree, and even gotten himself a job.

But something had always been missing. That freeness to use his powers whenever he wanted; to be proud of who he was; of _what_ he was. His job might claim to tolerate mutants, but he had never seen anyone extending a friendly hand or asking him out to lunch after he came out as one. It would have been better if he had kept his mouth shut. But he hadn't. He never could. That was what had gotten him into that final fight at the mansion in the first place.

So maybe that was it. He was tired of hiding who he was; tired of trying to be like everyone else and keeping his mouth shut. It wasn't in his nature to be like that. He hadn't been taught to be ashamed of him mutant powers. He was proud of it. And if he couldn't be proud of it in Los Angeles, then it was time for a change of scene.

It was time to return home.

He didn't know what awaited him there, or if he would be welcomed with open arms. He only knew that he should have gone back months ago, and regardless of what excuse he would come up with, it had been cowardice that had kept him away.

But no more. He was going to turn over a new leaf and see where that led him. Another chance, another day – he was going to find his place as a mutant in this new world. And it would all start here, at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

The cab slowed to a stop, and he found himself taking a deep breath before getting out. He paid the driver after his bag was unloaded and then watched it drive away again. Turning around, he faced the front doors, his stomach churning with anticipation. It was now or never. He pressed the doorbell, waiting for someone to enter, feeling foolish for not just pushing his way in. The door opened, and he found himself looking eye to eye with a gruff looking man smoking a cigar. An eyebrow went up, but he didn't bother asking about it. Times had changed, so it was just as well that things at the mansion had changed as well.

Logan spoke first after eyeing the blonde man before him. "Aren't you a little old to be going to school?"

"I'm not here to go to school."

"Then what do you want?"

"Is Ororo here?"

"Who's asking?"

"Alex. Alex Summers."


End file.
